Angel's Window
by Ice Queen1
Summary: The Seven take a vacation whitewater rafting...and as usual, trouble follows
1. Whitewater

Disclaimer: Oh please, do you honestly think I own them?

Author's Notes: Takes place in the ATF A/U. I was inspired to write this due to some recent experiences of my own. Oh, and my geography is severely skewed, just to let you know. Angel's Window will be mentioned in a later chapter, but it's not located in Colorado. It's actually in Arizona, but right along the Colorado River, which is why I brought it up. I'll see if I can get a picture to show where it is. Ooo! And one last thing: if anyone reads this (which I doubt) needs a Beta-reader, I'd be more than happy to do it for you! Just e-mail me and I'll see what I can do. 

"We are doing _what?_" Chris Larabee asked, his voice sounding incredulous. "Since when?"

"Since I made a reservation for seven, that's when," Buck Wilmington stated, waving a sheet of paper with the name "Adventure Bound" stamped on it at his friend. 

"Give me that," JD Dunne demanded, grabbing the paper out of his roommate's hand and began to read it aloud. "Adventure Bound: Colorado's premier whitewater rafting organization allows you to fulfill your wildest dreams by having an experienced guide take you and your friends down the Colorado river for a seven day ride of adventure. See life the way Nature intended it to be like." JD dropped his hand holding the paper to his side. "_Rafting?_"

"Why not? Haven't you ever seen _The River Wild_? It's the best way to take a vacation!" Buck protested defensively, snatching the paper back. 

"How much would this little 'expedition' cost us?" Ezra Standish asked, leaning comfortably against the desk behind him. 

"For seven days, meals provided by the company along with wetsuits…a hundred and twenty five dollars per person," Vin Tanner answered, reading off the sheet he had snagged from Buck. The sharpshooter looked over the top of the sheet at Buck. "Sounds like fun."

"It is!" Buck insisted to the wary crowd. 

"Why would we want to spend a vacation meant for relaxing careening down a raging river of death?" Ezra countered. 

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, Ez. No one's died on the Colorado River with one of the Adventure Bound crews," the mustached agent argued with the southerner. "Besides, every vacation we take, we end up getting shot at, blown up, put in jail or something else equally unappealing. This way, we can't be put in jail because of someone arguing with Ez busted up another bar since there won't be anyone to argue with, we can't get shot at cause the only person besides us in the raft will be the tour guide, and we can't get blown up because there will be nobody with dynamite in the raft!" 

The other six seemed to consider these facts. Slowly, one by one, they all nodded in agreement. 

"Ya got a point there," Chris admitted thoughtfully. 

"It _would_ be rather nice to actually have a vacation where we aren't carrying our armaments around with us," Ezra conceded. He actually surprised himself when he felt drawn to the idea of whitewater rafting. Usually, he hated most outdoor activities and steered away from them at all cost. However, for some inexplicable reason, he felt an urge to try rafting down the infamous Colorado rapids.

"How 'bout the rest of ya?" Buck asked, pleased to see that the two friends he was most concerned about recruiting seemed to like the idea. 

Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez looked at one another and shrugged. "Ya'll gonna need someone to look after ya and make sure you don't kill each other," Nathan answered. 

"Best way to see God's beautiful country is first hand, right?" Josiah said in his deep baritone. "We're in."

Buck turned to Vin and JD. Vin caught the look and returned it with one of surprise. "What? You actually think you're gonna get an argument out of us?"

"Great! The tour starts Wednesday, and it's about a day worth of driving down. If we leave tomorrow, we should be able to catch it," Buck explained. "Josiah, can we use the Suburban? It's the only vehicle that fits all of us and our gear."

"Just got the ol' girl up and running. We should be fine," Josiah replied. 

"And Ez?" The ladies man turned to gambler. 

"What?" Ezra used his best innocent look. 

"No guns. Not even your ankle holster your so fond of bringing with you everywhere. And I wouldn't suggest cards either, cause they're gonna get soaked."

"I wouldn't dream of bringing a firearm on this excursion into the wild blue yonder," Ezra replied in mock indignance (A/N That _is_ a word, right?).

Buck rolled his eyes as if to say 'yeah, right'. "Tomorrow we should leave around ten in the morning, just in case we get lost with Chris as the navigator."

"I resent that," Chris grumbled, though he grinned slightly. 

"This is going to be great!" JD said enthusiastically, pumping his fist in the air for emphasis.

"Knock on wood…" Chris muttered faintly, tapping the top of the desk with his knuckles. 

Thirteen hours later, the 'Magnificent Seven' were piled into Josiah's old and dying (despite what he says) Suburban. Ezra and Vin were seated in the very back with Buck, JD and Nathan seated in the middle seat, though very cramped. Only two could fit in the back because of the spillage of baggage falling over onto the seat. Chris and Josiah, being the oldest, received the privilege of sitting in the front. 

"Are we there yet?" Vin called for what seemed like the millionth time from the backseat. 

Six voices chorused at once, "NO!"

"How much longer?" he asked, ignoring the rolling eyes of his teammates. They should be used to this by now. 

"Too long," Ezra grumbled, turning to face out the window and watched as the trees whipped by. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Vin demanded. 

"It means, Mr. Tanner, that you don't seem to be able to sit still for more than a few seconds," Ezra snapped back. 

"Shut up you two," Nathan replied sleepily as he shifted his position from sleeping with his head against the side of the window. 

"He started it," the two agents replied simultaneously, pointing at the other. 

Chris hit his head against the passenger window. "Two more hours, two more hours…" he chanted. 

"Two more hours?" Vin echoed. "Aw, hell. I can't wait that long!"

"Then jump from the vehicle and walk," Chris suggested. 

"Really?" Vin's face brightened.

"No."

"Damn." Vin folded his arms across his chest and settled back against the seat, trying to get comfortable. 

TWO HOURS LATER….

"Oh thank you Lord…" Ezra praised, practically falling face first into the dirt in his haste to get out of the Suburban. 

The seven men exited the car, stretching their sore muscles after about eight hours in the car. It was originally supposed to be four hours in the car, but had turned to eight when they took the wrong road and ended up going completely in the wrong direction. 

"It was worth it for this," Nathan voiced, looking around at the towering pines and the clear blue sky. The day was rapidly drawing to a close and the setting sun could be seen through the trees setting just beyond the river bend, casting a rosy glow across the land. In the distance, the ex-medic could make out the white caps of the first rapids. 

"The tents are over there," JD pointed to the left, indicating the white canvas covered structures. It was a permanent tent site, so it was complete with wooden floors and frame. 

As the seven ATF agents grabbed their packs out of the back of the Suburban, they trudged off to the tents and found four sets of bunks complete with mattresses and pillows. 

Vin and JD immediately claimed top bunks by hurling their bags atop the mattress they claimed as theirs. 

"What time do we leave for the river tomorrow?" JD asked, stretching out on the bunk. 

"Says that we have to be up by six thirty for breakfast…"

"Which I'm forgoing if it means rising at the same time as the sun," Ezra drawled.

"No you're not," Chris and Nathan immediately said.

"If I may?" Buck asked, clearing his throat. "Anyway, six thirty breakfast then a briefing at seven thirty for safety measures and what's gonna be happening."

"Which means…" Nathan stepped in once more. "If ya'll go to sleep now, you'll be rested before we have to get up tomorrow. That means you too, Ez."

"Oh, please Mr. Jackson. It's only seven thirty. Why do I need eleven hours of sleep when eight or even six will suffice?" Ezra countered. 

"Because there's very little to do in a tent with no lights or electricity once it gets dark except sleep. Besides, you're grouchy in the morning even if you've had a week's worth of sleep," Nathan shot back. "Bed."

Ezra opened his mouth to protest, but Chris sent a death glare in his direction, and he shut his mouth with a sigh. "This had better be worth it," he grumbled, flopping back on the bed. 

And…I dunno why I'm posting this piece the way it is…rather leaves off at an odd place, but what the hell. I wanted to get it up today. Tonight. Whatever. Don't forget to review. Does anyone else think Ezra is OOC? 


	2. Skull Rapids

Author's Note: Okay, since last time I have had five people ask me what OOC means. It stands for Out Of Character. Anyway, continuing on with the story (even though only five people have reviewed). Time for some good ol' bad luck. J Most information has been taken from GORP maps, but I skewed them a little. Just to make things fun…::wink wink:: Oh, and Angel's Window is actually on Arizona near the north rim of the Grand Canyon but I decided to put it in Colorado. 

"Good morning all of you. I trust you slept well?" the guide asked, a faint smile playing on his lips as he looked at several of the men before him. One seemed to be falling asleep on another's shoulder while a few more were yawning and rubbing sleep from their eyes.

"Why must revelry be at such an ungodly hour? Aren't we supposed to be at least somewhat in control of our senses when we go down a raging river of death?" Ezra moaned tiredly, his southern accent thickened by his drowsiness.

"To answer your question, you must be up at least by six because we have a long way to go today. I am your guide, Mark Riley, and I have been a professional river runner for the past twelve years. I have never lost a passenger, and I don't plan on doing so now. Mr. Standish, I suggest you wake up if you have any hopes of preserving your person should you fall overboard," Mark snapped as the Southerner began to doze again.

"I wasn't planning on falling overboard," Ezra protested, but blinked his eyes open anyway.

"I don't care. Those whitewater below you are named the Skull Rapids. A solid class IV river, and if you fall over without the sense to know what to do, you might as well die right here and now, cause that's exactly what you'll be doing down there." Mark indicated with a nod of his head the river below them.

The seven were standing on the edge of a butte overlooking the rapids, the canyon walls spreading out below them to give them a beautiful vista of the Colorado. The muddy blue waters churned with white foam, froth spewing forth like a rapid animal had been sucked underneath. The red and browns of the canyon seemed to stretch forwards and upwards for miles, even though they knew that was not so.

"We'll not be going into the river at this point," Mark said, noting the look of relief cross the kid's face. "We'll be starting at the top of the Westwater, and right about now I should warn you, we're in the middle of the "Terrible Teens." The river has 30,000 cubic feet of water passing this spot every second, so this is the height of her nastiness. The first seven miles of the trip is easy drifting, we'll get some practice steering in there. After that, the Little Dolores River comes in, and that's the end of easy rafting. She brings it up to an easy looping class III run. There's a good camp on the right, called Hades Bar, we'll stop there for the night. After that, below the Little Dolores is a cave that legend says two bandits stayed in for a year after robbing a bank in Vernal, called Outlaw Cave. Very unoriginal, if you ask me. Then, the river narrows about a mile below Little Dolores, as the river is squeezed between the walls of Precambrian schist, a black, greasy-looking rock that gives this section an ominous cast. The river will drop more than 50 feet in the next 2.5 miles; its fall marked by the Class III and IV rapids that make Westwater famous. Marble Canyon rapids begin at the canyon of the same name, and they're another set of Class III. Just past that is Staircase, a set of Class III waves. Both these rapids will be at least partly washed out above 10,000 cubic feet per second. Next on the right hand side is Big Hummer, another class III, so we shouldn't have a problem after all the practice we just going through the others, but it also can produce extraordinary waves at high water. Immediately below Big Hummer is another class III called Funnel Falls, which can be a tricky run because the river takes a sudden drop between boulders, each with a sizeable wave train. After Funnel Falls is Surprise, and named rightly so. Many boaters have found themselves swimming through her after prematurely celebrating their survival…er…success on Funnel Falls. Any questions so far?" Mark explained. He looked around at the men and noticed some were looking slightly paler and the others more excited. He smiled to himself. These types of people were his favorite kinds. River running just wouldn't be the same if you didn't have at least three people screaming "OH SHIT!" before crashing into a four-foot wave.

"When was the last time someone died on these rapids?" the black man asked curiously. 

Mark thought for a moment. "Well, sir, I personally have not lost a single person to any river. However, I believe an inexperienced kayaker foolishly decided to go down the Skulls without a back up and drowned last year. Mind you, he didn't have a life vest, he was improperly secured to the kayak, didn't have a life-vest, and tried going after a veritable monsoon."

"Good to know that the only fatalities belong to those who would've won the Darwin Award had they survived until a later date," Ezra muttered, smiling slightly. 

"Is that the last of the rapids?" Buck asked the guide. 

Mark burst out laughing. "You're funny, mister…?"

"Buck Wilmington, and I'll assume that the burst of laughter is a no," Buck answered. 

"No, it is not the last of the rapids. Now we are entering into the class IV, the highest class you can get on this river. More class IV rivers have claimed the lives of both experienced and inexperienced runners alike. They can get swells up to seven feet high and if you're knocked off the raft and lose your sense of surroundings, you will most likely either drown or break a few limbs hitting the rocks. You don't want to swim through Surprise because you might not get back into your boat before arriving at the biggest and best rapid on Westwater. Skull Rapid is a solid Class IV. It should be scouted on the left — the horizon line is visible from several hundred feet away as the river narrows and is pushed toward the right side of the canyon. 

The river surges along the right wall and over or around Skull Rock, a massive boulder that usually creates a big hole that will hold or flip a boat. Depending on the water flow, the run can be done either to the left or right of the rock, but the only way to know for sure is to scout the run in advance. 

Even if you make it cleanly through Skull, your troubles aren't over. The most famous eddy on the Colorado River, the Room of Doom, forms during high water at the bottom of Skull's wave train on the right. The current pushes toward a cliff, known as the Rock of Shock. Boats that ram the cliff are liable to wind up in the Room of Doom, a huge, swirling eddy that has been known to capture unlucky boaters for hours. After negotiating Skull Rapid, be sure to pull your boat left, toward midstream or the left bank, to avoid the Room of Doom. 

After Skull, the river begins to ease up, but keep an eye out for Sock-It-to-Me, a quick drop with a big wave at the bottom, about a quarter mile below Skull. After that, there are a couple of small drops before hitting Last Chance. This rapid is marked by a big boulder at lower flows and a big wave or hole above 5,000 cubic feet per second. 

That's it for Westwater, except for another six miles of flat water before the takeout. The river passes through a beautiful, narrow section before the canyon opens up again. The takeout is at Cisco Landing, a heavily used BLM boat ramp. That's where we'll dock in about three days. Any questions?" Mark asked again. He definitely saw more paled faces now.

"There's a safety course included in this, right?" the obviously youngest of the group asked. 

"Of course. Your name, young sir?" Mark asked. 

"JD," JD replied. _For once someone who doesn't call me kid_, he thought to himself. 

"Okay…quick dissertation on safety. One: Stay in the raft at all times! This is your number one priority people! I know that seems obvious, but you wouldn't _believe_ the amount of people that have asked me if they can swim over some of the rapids. Second: keep a hold of your paddles. The t-cross handle at the top of the shaft is the number one cause of injuries on this river. People let go of it and it flies back and hits the person's face behind them. Very painful. However, should you fall out of the boat, keep your feet up, I  repeat **_up_**, and hold your hands out to your side so you can maintain balance. Whatever you do, do _not_ let your feet drag. Your toes could catch a rock at the bottom and the hydraulic will suck you under and pin you flat. Nothing on heaven or earth could get you up again until about next spring. Third: do not swim against the current. You are tops 200 pounds or less, like you JD. You cannot fight against the almost forty mile-an-hour water. Hell, _hydroplanes_ can't do it. If we get to a calm place I will throw you a rope and you can pull yourself in before we hit the next rapids. When hauling someone in, grab them by the lapels of their life jackets.  It's a lot easier than grabbing arms and a lot less painful for the person being brought in. Don't let me make you believe you will most assuredly get dumped out. It is actually very rare that someone falls overboard. Once you're in the raft, I suggest you tuck your foot underneath the seats. Usually that should keep you in. Also, when we hit a wave, don't sit up straight. Duck. You have less surface area to get creamed by the wave to knock you over. Any questions?" Mark repeated. 

They shook their heads. 

"Good. The launch site is about twenty miles upstream, so we have to drive. You can either all ride in the car you came in, or you can come with me in the brand-new company van which seats nine with claustrophobic conditions." 

Seven voices chorused "Company van!" immediately. 

Chris yanked on the adjustment strap on his life jacket, tightening it to the point it no longer moved in any direction. 

"Paranoid there, cowboy?" Vin asked, raising an eyebrow. He grabbed an elastic band and tied back his long hair out of his face. 

"No more than I should be. Last time I went rafting was with Sarah on our honeymoon and both she and I got tossed. Her life jacket wasn't secured so it popped over her head. They said it would've turned out a lot worse if we hadn't gotten dumped together," Chris explained, grinning at the memory. The look on Sarah's face was priceless when she discovered that her new husband turned out to be a 'knight in shining armor' as well. _That_ had been a night to remember. Adam was born nine months later to date.

Vin nodded, his hand trailing to the long black adjusting strap of his own vest and giving it an extra tug. He was somewhat surprised that Chris offered a snippet of information about his late wife without even the most remote bit of sadness on his face. Maybe he was finally letting go. 

The other five were gathered around the back of the van, putting on the yellow life jackets with "Adventure Bound" stamped on the left shoulder in green. Yellow plastic helmets were also passed around the group along with paddles, all with the same green emblem pasted on them. 

"All set?" Mark asked, fastening the chinstrap on his own helmet and aligning his sunglasses. 

The seven nodded. 

"Let's go," the guide grinned, pointing to the large yellow, inflatable raft at the base of the ramp. "Who wants to be in front? You'll be the pacesetters. Everyone will paddle once you begin to. You'll keep the rhythm while going over the wave trains. Now, the two job descriptions also include that you be a good team worker and slightly kamikaze because you'll be getting the full front of the waves all day long. Any volunteers?" Mark said, looking around at the group. 

JD and Vin looked at one another, identical grins spreading over their faces. "We'll do it!" they shouted eagerly, waving their hands as though back in a classroom. 

Josiah and Nathan rolled their eyes at their eagerness. Neither one thought that getting hit repeatedly in the face with the potentially dangerous waves sounded like fun and were just as happy that the youngest of group got to. 

"All right you two," Mark said, waving for them to get in the raft. Vin and JD raced to the side of the raft and leapt in, listening carefully to the instructions Mark was giving them. While they were talking animatedly, Chris walked up to Ezra who was standing slightly away from the group as usual. 

"Something wrong Ez?" he asked, not looking towards the undercover agent, but instead focusing on the river ahead of them. 

"No, why do you ask?" Ezra replied, pulling at the uncomfortable chinstrap of the plastic helmet. 

"You seem to be complaining less than normal. Thought something might be wrong," Chris said lightly, allowing a glance at the shorter man. 

"I take that as an offense, Mr. Larabee. However…would you like to make a bet that shall not result in either one of us losing money?" Ezra quipped, ignoring the jab. 

"You have those kinds of bets?" Chris asked in mild surprise.

"On occasion, yes.  Would you like to place a gamble?" 

"Before I say anything, what's the bet?" Chris asked wearily. Ezra never gambled unless a profit could be made. 

"What do you think the odds are that all eight of us will escape this little venture unscathed?" Ezra asked. "Keeping in mind that such an occurrence has yet to happen. Even though our number stands as seven, sometimes I wonder if that is truly a lucky number."

"Well, we're not dead yet, so there has to be some good luck in it somewhere. Mark seems like a levelheaded guy. We should be fine. I place my bet as one of us might get dumped overboard and if that should happen, it will be Vin to be the first one over," Chris replied, studying the Texan carefully.

"Betting against a friend, Mr. Larabee? That's not very charitable," Ezra chuckled. 

"Friend that he is, I know he's also the one that seems to get into the most trouble, though there _are_ a few runner's up…not to point fingers at anyone, _Ezra_," Chris pointed out. 

"Hey!" 

"Oh you know it's true, so don't give me that look."

"Fine. Your wager has been noted, and I believe Mr. Riley is calling us," Ezra replied, indicating the guide waving at them. 

They trooped over to the raft and climbed in behind Vin and JD, Buck and Nathan behind them and Josiah and Mark headed the rear. 

"Everyone set? Have your paddles, jackets, helmets…?" Mark asked everyone. 

"Ready!" they spoke together in unison. 

"Then off we go!" Mark cried, and shoved the raft away from the wet dock and down the river. 

Meanwhile, almost forty miles ahead at the Skull Rapids ranger station, the radio crackled with an unknown voice. 

"_Attention all areas within the Westwater area, five men, armed and dangerous, have entered the area. They are wanted for the murder of two policemen and robbing the Westwater bank. They are believed to be heading towards the river_…"

Author's Note: There will be more of the guys and action in the next chapter. This is more of an informational bit. Like I said before, my geography is a little off because I bent it to fit my own demented mind so I could torture these guys. Anyway, helpful tips appreciated, though flaming will be mocked in the next chapter. 


End file.
